Owen's Story
by purplesparkleypanda
Summary: Owen learned everything he knew about love when he was five. That it wasn't worth it. He grew up with the instinct to numb the pain. He grew up with walls around him and a hard exterior that no one could break. He was as emotionless as a statue, and though he never let himself: fragile enough to break. -Significant snap-shots in the life of Owen Milligan.


_Prologue _

Owen learned everything he knew about love when he was five. That it wasn't worth it. He just would sit in the corner of his room, wondering when the fighting would stop, instead of playing and having adventures like a normal child. Tristan would just cry, hearing the booming voices and bleeding hearts of their parent's latest argument. He knew not to intervene, because he knew the punishment so well, so he just kept quiet and wished he were anywhere but there. A feeling a five-year-old shouldn't have to feel in his own home. He was much too young.

He grew up with the instinct to numb the pain. He grew up with walls around him and a hard exterior that no one could break. He was as emotionless as a statue, and though he never let himself: fragile enough to break. Tristan grew up the opposite; he never missed a chance to express himself, or his feelings, hiding whatever pain he had under a soft and friendly mask. Though opposites, the two brothers learned that they would have to face life watching out for each other, because there wasn't anyone else they could count on. There wasn't anyone else who knew their pain.

I.

His father left when he was six. He remembered the escalating fight, and the slammed doors. He remembered the cries from his mother, and finding her just lying helplessly on the kitchen floor. It was an image he wished he could erase from his mind. He should be the one expressing emotion, and she should have been the one strong enough for all of them. Instead she stared with an empty expression and muttered through gasps and tears, "He's gone forever."

Owen wasn't angry, and in a way he was kind of relieved, maybe even unaffected emotionally. Maybe the nightmare that was his life would be over. Maybe he wouldn't get beaten anymore. Maybe he could have a normal childhood, and a normal fatherless family.

It was early, and he had to go to school. Leaving, he walked out the door to be picked up by a friend's mom for school, leaving his mother drowning in her own sorrow.

II.

It only took two weeks for him to notice the marks on Tristan. Marks he knew so well. He was just three, and not yet in school, and he could only imagine what he had to endure when he left every day. Bruises on his arm, a bump on his head; Owen felt like he let his brother down for not noticing sooner. He wasn't going to let this happen. He had to protect the only person that mattered to him. So he confronted her.

His mother had taken refuge in her room every day; sometimes watching soap operas, or trashy daytime TV, sometimes smoking cigarettes or drinking bottomless glasses of wine. The six year old opened the bedroom door slowly, his mother just sleeping today, rolled up in a few blankets.

"Mom?"

There was no answer.

"Mom?" he tried again, walking up to the bed.

"What Owen!? What do you want?"

"I want to know why you hurt Tristan."

There was a pause. It seemed like forever before she answered. She rolled over to the side of the bed, so her eyes were even with his.

"Your brother did it to himself with his constant crying," she barked, "And I suggest you keep your mouth shut or you'll get it too!"

And with that she reached one hand out from under the cover and pushed the little boy to the floor. Owen just sat there. This was the kind of pain he felt when his father was still home. He had been sure that it was just his father who had hated them, but here was his mother turning into the same monster-like tyrant he had been. After awhile, he got up.

"I'm hungry mom."

"There's cereal in the kitchen."

It was six-thirty in the evening but that's what he did. He went and got Tristan. He climbed up to the cabinet and grabbed two plastic bowls, poured in some Cherrios, and filled them with water from the sink because the milk smelled, and was long too expired for them to drink.

III.

Owen was eleven when Tristan decided he wanted to be an actor. He would write out these silly plays and musicals, make posters advertising them, and hand them out to all the neighborhood kids. He cried when Owen was the only one to show up to his first performance. Owen hadn't really _wanted_ to come; some of the other neighborhood kids were down the street at the park starting a baseball game he had been invited to play in. But he knew Tristan didn't have many friends, so he had to support his brother.

He was pissed that no one showed up. He was so pissed off that he stormed down the street to the park and told all the kids playing baseball that he would beat them up if they didn't go watch Tristan's play. Owen was tough, and most of the other's were actually afraid of him, so they listened.

Tristan's eyes lit up when he saw at least ten kids walking into their backyard to watch his play. Owen stood watch by the gate, making sure no of them decided to walk away. If Tristan wanted to be an actor, he could be an actor, and Owen was going to make sure all of his dreams came true.

There was a girl who came a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said to Owen, holding one of Tristan's posters in her hand and walking toward the performance.

She was young, probably about Tristan's age. She was probably new in town, because Owen had never seen her before. She was skinny, with dark curly brown hair, and she was of latino decent. He would later find out that her name was Victoria, or Tori, and she would become Tristan's best friend.

Owen liked Tori, he liked anyone that supported his brother, but he liked Tori the best. He was just eleven, but it seemed he had a small infatuation with her. She was probably the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and she was always so kind and care-free. He liked when she would laugh. She was all smiles and rainbows, and _unicorns._ Tori and Tristan would spend hours just making up plays and songs. Tristan would go to her beauty pageants, and her parents even paid for Tristan to go away to summer camp with her.

Life seemed to be okay for the Milligan boys on the outside, but they both knew it was never okay on the inside. Their mom would come home late every night. She could even sometimes be gone for days at a time. She would come stumbling in loudly through the front door in the middle of the night after being gone, and even if they were sleeping, wake up the boys. She would hug them and say goodnight, and act like a mother should. She would smell like smoke and alcohol and broken dreams. Even though he shouldn't, every time it happened Owen would think in the back of his mind that maybe everything would be okay, that this crooked glimpse of his mother would become permanent.

But then they would wake up in the morning. And there was their usual mother either passed out and hung-over, or newly drunk and obnoxious.

She liked to take her anger out on Owen the most because he never fought back.

Then he would go in the kitchen and cook Tristan breakfast like nothing happened; French toast with cinnamon and sugar and syrup; all the fake sweetness that mirrored his life.

Sometimes he wondered if she hated him because he was becoming the spitting image of his dad. Sometimes Owen believed he deserved the pain. Maybe he really had done something wrong. Maybe it was _him_ that made his father leave, and made her hate him so much.

By the time the boys would come home from school, she would be gone.

Each time Owen secretly hoped she just wouldn't come back.

IV.

He was a good student. No one in his class really believed it because of his tough persona and because he played a lot of sports. Most girls in his class were afraid of him, and a lot of the guys didn't bother to mess with him, so he just had a few close friends.

The seventh and eighth-graders were researching a history project in the library that day. Owen liked libraries because they were quiet. He liked to get lost in books and pretend he was someone else. There was something calming about a library, because no one dared to disturb the peace within it.

He was pacing the shelves, looking for a book on the Civil War, when he saw a girl trying to reach a book at the top shelf. She was one of the rich, popular girls; and eighth grader. She had red-brown hair and clean pressed clothes; Holly J St. Claire. She looked somewhat helpless trying to reach the book, almost like she didn't really belong in a library herself.

"I'll get it," he said, reaching up and easily grabbing the book.

"Thanks," she replied, as he handed her the large Abraham Lincoln biography book.

She kind of smiled, but looked a little uncomfortable.

"You're project is on Abraham Lincoln?" he asked, "I'm doing the Civil War."

"Yes, you like history?" she asked, getting more comfortable.

"I guess so. It's interesting to see what happened before us," he explained, "it's almost crazy how different things are now compared to then, unimaginable."

She smiled and nodded, starting to walk past him with the book.

She turned around, "You know, you shouldn't be so shy all the time, less people would be afraid of you."

She thought he was shy? He supposed he never took the time to talk to a lot of people. He didn't really believe that he was an interesting person; just kind of felt that his true personality was a little arrogant. He could threaten people to be nice to Tristan, and take out all the aggression in his life through sports. He even got in a few fights after school because of his random snarky remarks about people.

That day, someone in his class really pissed him off about something, and instead of confronting them like he would normally do, he let it go. He thought about Holly J with the text book. He didn't want people to be afraid of him.

He just wanted people to understand him.

V.

He was in his first year at Degrassi when he found out Tristan was gay.

He knew in the back of his mind that Tristan wasn't like other kids.

He came home after school one afternoon, and found Tristan crying in his room. It was like a flashback to when they were kids, when Tristan would just cry while his parents fought. He hated seeing his brother upset.

"What's wrong Tris? Who do I have to _fuck up_ for you?"

He just shook his head and tried to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"Come on bro, you can tell me anything," Owen asked him, "What's wrong? Is it Mom?"

"No," he answered, "I guess I can tell you, Owen . . . I have to tell _someone._ Please don't laugh at me. I'm just not like you Owen. You play sports and you're tough, I'm not I'm _different._"

"Tristan, I would _never_ make fun of you," he assured him, "Just tell me what's up."

"I'm GAY!" he practically shouted, then he got quieter, his face crumpled up as he spit out the words, "I like GUYS. There I said it . . . I just feel really alone."

He looked at Owen for support. His eyes practically begging for his acceptance; for his assurance that everything was going to be okay. But it seemed that this was something even his tough big brother couldn't fix. Or barely comprehend for that matter.

Owen stepped back for a moment. It made sense. Tristan was so sensitive, Tori was his best friend-a girl, and he loved plays and musicals. He had such a flamboyant attitude. It made sense.

He didn't like to think about what it would be like to have a "normal" brother, because it wasn't Tristan's fault. He loved Tristan the way he was, but he wished he had someone to play sports with, someone to talk about girls with. The only common thread they shared was their lack of family, and the abuse they suffered together every day.

"It's okay," he said putting his arm around his brother, "I don't know what to say really, I don't understand it, but I'm okay with it I guess."

Tristan didn't seem to like the answer as he stared down at the ground, "I should have just told Tori."

They sat there on Tristan's bed in silence for a few minutes.

Owen didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to hear about it ever again, really. He just wanted to go on pretending like Tristan was normal. He didn't need something else in his life to be messed up and dysfunctional.

Ignoring it was all he could do. It was all he could ever do about his problems.

VI.

It made him feel better to torture Adam Torres. It made him feel like he was in control of something, like in some sick way he could make someone feel as bad as or worse than he did on a daily basis. Why would Adam want to be a guy anyway? When he looked at Adam, he saw more dysfunction in _her _than in his own life and family. How ridiculous was to think that _she _could just become a guy without anyone noticing. It was like Tristan, thinking that life and everything would just go smoothly when you believe in something so unnatural.

That's why he hated Adam. He hated how people like that could just make it okay for others to believe that strange things were possible. Adam was making it okay for Tristan to be different, and he didn't want Tristan to be different; he wanted him to be like everyone else. Owen was tired of watching out for Tristan because he was _different_. He just wanted a normal life, and Adam was just _asking_ for it, rubbing it in everyone's face by pretending to be normal.

The day he smashed Adam into the glass window, his face crumpled up as he fell to the ground, defeated. It was that same look in his eyes that Tristan got the day he came out to him, that look of confusion and emotional distress that Owen just couldn't seem to get out of his head.

A broken look that just couldn't be fixed.

VII.

There was a party, and anyone who was anybody at Degrassi was there. Owen, being on the football team, was an 'anybody' at Degrassi. Owen had gotten confident around girls, cocky even. He had grown-up by his second year at Degrassi, grown into his body and his looks.

He knew he was more attractive than the average guy.

The teenagers were drinking alcohol poured into red plastic cups, talking and laughing about school when Marisol, a cheerleader, suggested the game 'spin the bottle'. He had still never been kissed, so the thought of the game was making him so nervous, but there was no way he was going to back out in front of everyone.

He seemed tough, but he was somewhat a romantic at heart. He had always imagined his first kiss to be with someone who meant something to him, and now this game was going to ruin that romanticized thought for him. He shrugged it off, the alcohol impairing his thoughts and went along with the game.

He was making it through it fine for awhile, safe from the bottle choosing him. There were giggles and laughs about who was kissing who, and more and more and more alcohol was being consumed by the group.

Then it was his turn. He didn't have any certain person in mind when he took his turn. He just smirked his signature smile and spun it. People were yelling and laughing as he did, and some girls were eagerly trying to get the bottle to land on them, leaning over each other. The beer bottle seemed to be in slow motion until it directly landed in front of a cute Grade 11 girl.

Anya MacPherson.

Sav's girlfriend.

Some girls squealed, and some guys whistled. Sav glared at him, but didn't say anything, and Anya's cheeks turned bright pink. He leaned over through the circle by Anya, and their lips met for just a few seconds. His stomach seemed to do a flip-flop, and it was as if he were floating on air, a tingling sensation that made him feel like all his worries were gone. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt something so incredible in his life.

As they sat back down, he swore he saw Anya look down and smile.

Maybe she had felt it too.

VIII.

He didn't know how to act around girls. He got an attitude most of the time that he would regret afterwards, always feeling like he was completely disrespectful to them. It's how he found himself almost hooking up with Alli Bandarhi in the boiler room at a dance. Her self-esteem was just about as low as his, but at the same time, their confidence was just as high. He knew she wanted to get back at Drew, and she knew she was _hot,_ girls like that just knew it.

He was almost relieved when Drew came in, because he was starting to act reckless and forceful, and all those things he knew were in his blood, but he wished were not.

IX.

Owen was practically _obsessed_ with her.

How could someone honestly be as beautiful and perfect as Anya MacPherson? Everything she did was just perfect as perfect could be. He wasn't good enough for her; he knew it. Why would she want someone as arrogant, cocky, (broken) as he was. And she completely _hated _him, so he kept pushing her buttons and making her feel as awkward as possible.

He had never pursued a girl like he did with Anya. She was different, and no one else he had ever met had been worth it really.

He lost his virginity to her, practically took advantage of her. He regretted that eventually, but he _had to have her, _and she was so vulnerable.

He blackmailed her into their first date. It was fine by him, maybe Anya would see the real him, the person that no one else had ever seen. As they grew closer he realized that she was just about as (broken) as he was. A façade of perfection.

He didn't tell her about his family. He didn't tell her about how he didn't believe in love, or anything for that matter. He mostly just listened to her, memorized her face and her lips, how she pronounced her words and the faces she would make while she was talking. He would brush the hair from her eyes when she cried, and hug her every chance he got.

Anya made him feel needed. She changed him, made him soft.

He was her rock. He had someone besides Tristan to protect now, and he actually cared about (loved?) her. She would always ask him about his life, but he was vague. She didn't know what it was like to be terrified in your own home. She didn't know what it was like not to have a parent; to raise yourself and your brother and go through life pretending everything was okay.

He immediately regretted introducing her to Bianca.

When she got high at the club he was not only embarrassed by her, but terrified. _Did every woman in his life need to become an addict to deal with him? _He knew with Anya it wasn't all about him; she had a lot of stresses in her life. As he watched her spiral completely out of control, all she did was remind him of his mother: a beautiful mess of dysfunction and pain.

Anya came to his house one night, after they had broken up. He wondered how she had found his house on the bad side of town, but more importantly wondered about what she thought of the scene she witnessed through the open screen door. About how his mother pushed him into a wall, kicked his stomach, and the seemingly endless verbal abuse about he was never going to amount to _anything_ in his life. He saw those wide, beautiful brown eyes watching from the doorway, filled with more hurt and pure pity than anyone had ever felt for him. It brought them closer.

Then she decided to join the military.

It broke his already demolished heart.

Before long, she was gone at basic training, leaving Owen to tend to his miserable life alone. Sometimes, she wrote letters, but he imagined all the attention she was getting in the male-dominated career path she chose and knew she had to have moved on. Her letters were just an empty "Dear Owen"s and a meaningless "Love Always, Anya" sandwiched around vague details of her training. He never wrote back. She didn't need the dead-weight of his problems bringing her down, especially when she was doing something so important with her life.

Eventually the letters stopped.

Eventually he stopped thinking about her. (At least not every day)

X.

Graduating Degrassi was freedom for Owen; freedom to go to college and freedom to be whoever he wanted; to leave his old life behind. Tristan was the only family member at his graduation, and he brought Tori.

He had gotten a football scholarship to a school in America, and he would probably settle for a teaching degree and become a coach. Something _easy._

He was getting away, but he only wished he could bring Tristan with. Their mother hadn't changed, if anything, she was worse than ever, bringing home random guys every night. One was even getting comfortable, coming home with her more often than the others. He could hear their moans through the walls, and it made him feel dirty. The man paraded around their kitchen in nothing but flannel pajama bottoms, using up the groceries Owen had to sparingly buy with their food stamps. He would try to talk to him about sports and make gay jokes about Tristan, but the two boys would barely speak to him. Who did he think he was? Their new father? He surely was horrible enough to take his place.

Owen was leaving in a week. He was walking up his driveway one night, as someone was walking toward him. Tori.

"Hey Owen," she smiled, lifting up her arm in a half-wave.

"Hey," he said, "you actually went _in_ our house?"

"No, I just walked with Tristan to the front door, I don't think you're mom is home anyway."

Owen was sure she knew about their mother, about their problems. After all, she had been around the family for quite awhile.

"I guess I'll see you around then," he said, starting to walk passed her.

"Wait! Owen?" she grabbed his arm, a touch he didn't expect.

"Yeah?"

"I'm worried about Tristan staying there without you," she nodded her head toward the house, "do you think it would be okay if I tried to get him to move in with my parents and me?"

"For sure Tori," he smiled, ". . . thanks for always looking out for my bro."

She smiled back, "I'm pretty positive you and I care about Tristan the most out of anyone."

Owen nodded awkwardly in agreement. He momentarily had a flashback to when he was eleven, when he first saw Tori in the backyard for Tristan's play. She was grown-up now, _so_ grown-up. She was probably sixteen or seventeen, still skinny, and she still had long, curly, dark hair. He had seen that look in her eyes before as she stared back at him, the sparkling look of lust and admiration. The same look that he used to see in Anya's eyes.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her in against him, smashing his lips up against hers and stealing a kiss. She furiously kissed back, grasping his face in her hands like she needed his lips to survive. They eventually pulled back breathlessly, looking into each other's eyes. Owen felt awkward. He debated whether or not he should just walk away and pretend that nothing happened.

He finally spoke, "I'm . . . sorry, I just got caught up and-"

"Don't be sorry," she interrupted, smiling coyly, "you don't know how long I've wanted to do that for . . ."

This couldn't happen. He was leaving in a week.

"Tori, I . . . I'm leaving for school," he decided, "We can't do this."

With that he turned away from the girl with tears forming in her eyes, and walked up his house. He turned around when he got to the door, and she was still standing in the same spot, as if she expected him to run back and change his mind, like some romance movie.

He walked into the house, and he didn't look back.

XI.

College was full of lost people like Owen. It was full of lost teenagers filling in the gaps in their lives with alcohol and random hook-ups. It was full of guys with cocky attitudes, and easy girls with no morals. Owen found a lot of those girls. He had a lot of no-strings-attached sex. As much as he did, it didn't seem to fill the empty void in his life. For a short time, he would feel needed, and wanted, as though his life had a purpose. But none of these girls cared about him, and he didn't care about them. It was just a game of mutual destruction that he kept playing over and over and over.

They couldn't find his mom. Tristan called him one day and said he walked past the old house and it had a "Sold" sign in front of it. It was just empty, the walls echoing the painful past of the last inhabitants. It was another one of those moments where Owen felt free, like some sort of weight was lifted off of him. She wasn't around to torture them anymore, to abuse them, or make them feel insignificant. He knew the scars of his abuse were probably going to stay with him for the rest of his life, but he could finally work on heeling them, if only a little.

Tristan was coming to visit one weekend. Owen wasn't too excited about it, but he knew it would make his brother happy. They would probably just lay low and see some of the sights in the small college town. That weekend Tristan arrived, but he wasn't alone. He had brought Tori.

Owen was used to awkward moments, but with the way things ended between the two of them, he was just angry. He wondered why Tristan didn't even tell him she was coming.

"Can I talk to you for a moment inside?" Owen awkwardly asked, ushering Tristan through the door of his apartment.

"What's wrong Owen? She wanted to come . . ."

"Did she tell you what happened? Before I left?" he asked.

Tristan tried to look innocent, but Owen knew him better than that. And he knew he could see right through him.

"Fine, well, I guess my biggest intention for this weekend was to try to get you two together," he explained, "Tori has just been so different and totally crushed since you kissed her and led her on like a jerk."

Owen sat in silence for a moment, than spoke up, "You weren't there and you don't know what happened. I wish you would have just stayed out of my business!"

Owen clenched his fists and stared at the ground. He had no choice; he couldn't send them home after they came so far.

"Let's go get something to eat," he said, grabbing his coat and sighing in defeat.

Tori was like the college girls he slept with, with her obvious flirting and shy smiles when no one else was looking. It was working, and Owen found himself thinking inappropriate thoughts about her. So when it got dark and they went to sleep, and the crazy girl decided to crawl into his bed in the middle of the night, how could he object? She was as amazing as he imagined she would be. Dominant and unpredictable, she knew her way around the sheets and he enjoyed every minute of it.

It was a little more than his regular fling, but as much as she wanted it to be, he knew she would never be anymore than that.

XII.

Owen found out her didn't know anything about love until his daughter was born. When the baby girl breathed in her first breaths of life, he knew that nothing else in the world mattered anymore except for her. He wanted to be a better man for this small person. He was a dad, and he made a promise to himself that he would stop at nothing to give that little girl the world. He would be the father that his own could not be, and more.

XIII.

As she grew up, it was obvious that Olivia looked like her mom, and had the personality of her dad. She was petite with dark brown curly hair, and had light skin but it was obvious that she was of Latino decent. Tori and Owen got along well for their situation, as awkward as it was for the single parents.

Olivia, although just three and half, made Owen feel like he had a purpose in life. She was defiantly a Daddy's girl, and brought out the sensitive side in him. Tristan, who lived with Owen, would make outfits for her at his design school, and he was convinced that someday she would be a little pageant girl like Tori had been. Tori was currently living with her friend Maya across town in another apartment complex. They had both decided to take classes Degrassi Community College, so Tori would have Olivia all week, and Owen would have her all weekend.

It was Owen's weekend, and he had just finished feeding Olivia breakfast.

"Can I watch TV Daddy?" the little girl asked.

"Yes you may," he smiled, as he bent down and finished washing off her hands.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran into the living room, where Tristan had already turned on the "Dora the Explorer" DVD.

It was then that the doorbell rang. Owen hadn't been expecting company, so he figured it was just a salesperson. He walked over to the door, sarcastically yelling, "We don't want anything!" as he opened the door.

He forgot to breathe for a moment when he saw who was standing at the door.

Anya MacPherson.

She had gotten even more beautiful over the last few years, and she was in extremely good shape from her military time. She smiled at him shyly, and he just couldn't believe she was standing in front of him, she was someone he never thought he would see again.

"I didn't want to freak you out or anything, but I just moved into to an apartment in this complex, and I heard you lived here too," she explained, staring straight into his eyes.

Owen forgot how to talk for a moment.

"Owen? I can go . . . if this is a bad time."

"No! I mean . . . no Anya, come in," he insisted.

He felt little arms wrap around his leg.

"Daddy is that a cookie girl?" Olivia asked, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

Anya looked surprised, but she smiled at the little girl. Owen scooped her into his arms.

"She's not a cookie girl sweetie, her name is Miss Anya and she's daddy's friend," he explained.

"Nice to meet you," Anya said, shaking the little girl's hand.

"I just wanted a cookie," she complained, crossing her arms as they walked back into the living room.

Tristan was intently watching Dora, not realizing Olivia left, when his eyes grew wide noticing Anya walk in.

"Come on Liv, Uncle Tris is going to show you a new princess dress he's making for you," Owen said, placing her in Tristan's arms.

Tristan raised his eyebrows at Owen, nodded at Anya, and walked upstairs with Olivia.

"I still want a cookie," she was saying, which made Owen smile.

"So . . ." Anya started, feeling really awkward in the silence.

"I won't make you ask who her mom is," he said right away, "it's Tori Santamaria, and no she's not my girlfriend, I'm single," he made sure to add.

"I never took you for the fatherly type," she laughed, "she's totally cute."

Owen was relieved she was okay with his daughter. It surprised him that he cared so much about Anya's opinion.

"I guess I'll cut to the chase here . . ." she started, "I don't mean to be awkward or anything, but I was excited to see you and I was hoping to tie up a few lose ends."

"You mean about me not writing you back?"

"Yeah," she agreed simply, tears forming in her eyes.

"Well I don't have a good answer for you," he started, motioning for her to sit next to him on the couch, "I was a stupid kid, and I figured you moved on to some military guy or something."

She shook her head, "I couldn't stop thinking about you, and then it was just over, and it bothered me. I haven't had a real relationship since, and that was so long ago."

"Me either," he told her, "I've made some stupid mistakes, and some not _totally_ stupid mistakes, like that little girl upstairs, but now I've changed. And I can't believe you're here, looking all gorgeous and beautiful, exactly how I remembered."

She blushed, her eyes twinkled, "Don't do that Owen."

"What?"

"Don't say things like that, or I'm going to start thinking things."

"Like what?"

"Like there's a chance for us," she explained.

"Well, let's be friends," he proposed, putting his hand on hers, "and we can see where it goes from there. After all, we are neighbors now, aren't we?"

She laughed, and they heard little footsteps running down the stairs. Olivia emerged in a sparkly pink tulle dress, all smiles.

"I'm a princess girl!" she exclaimed, twirling around in circles.

"The most beautiful princess I've ever seen!" Anya exclaimed, as Olivia beamed.

"Would you like to go to the park with Daddy and Miss Anya?" Owen asked her, taking her hand.

She let go of her dad's hand and grabbed Anya's, "Yes, but I want to hold Miss Anya's hand!"

Owen took Anya's hand in his, as the three of them walked to the park. It was soon too say, but it seemed like the beginning of something really special for him and his daughter. It was like a dream, in the blink of an eye the girl he could never seem to get out of his head had somehow made a place into his life again.

_Epilogue_

The day he married Anya, Owen finally learned the _true_ meaning of love. He grew up thinking love was something he could never find in another person, something he could never feel, like he wasn't worthy of it. But he had learned so many things in his short existence.

Through Tristan, he learned that it was okay to show emotion, that nothing mattered except that he was always going stand by his side as his brother.

Through Olivia and Tori, he learned that it was okay to make mistakes, because sometimes they could be one of the best things to ever happen to you.

Through Anya, he learned that it was okay to break sometimes, because in the end it would always work out the way it should.

He learned through his own personal struggle that it was easier to look at life as an opportunity and an obstacle, rather than a prison.

But most of all, in the end, he learned that love was so_ worth_ it.

* * *

**I spent a long time on this, and I'm very proud of how it turned out. I usually don't ask for reviews, but I would appreciate it if you would let me know what you thought so I can know what to work on for next time. Thank you so much for reading my story, every view means a lot to me! :)**


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